Traces of You
by messyfeathers
Summary: Earl was glad that Cecil could at least remember Europe after his re-education. He just wished the radio host remembered Europe how it really had been. (Cecil/Earl Harlan, alternate take on 'A Memory of Europe')


_Author Notes: I read a theory once that Cecil and Earl went to Europe together, but re-education altered Cecil's memories. I couldn't get it out of my head, so then this happened. I don't own Night Vale._

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The proposal was shaky, to say the least. The words were stuttered and came out mostly backwards, and he hadn't even been able to afford a ring with what little money he made as a junior leader in the scouts going to their split rent on the tiny apartment they shared on the side of Night Vale that was prone to wandering blackouts; but when Earl finally spit out those last few words, Cecil was immediately breathing '_yes_' into his lips and his hair and the rapidly cooling desert night around them. It was only eleven months since they had started dating, but their relationship went years back to the very first day they had been recruited into the boy scouts. It was Earl who suggested they run away for a while. Marriage in Night Vale was an eternal, soul-binding contract that not only tied two souls together, but tied them to the town. As it was, they were both just twenty and eager to see the world beyond the desert. So they decided to keep their future plans a secret until they got back, and the following night under cover of darkness and with a few tricks learned from their years in the scouts, the two slipped away and boarded a bus headed towards the airport. They didn't even know where they were going - not really - but it didn't matter because for the first time they were free from the responsibility of internships and leadership training and even free from the town's prying eyes that watched them every day.

The sunrise on their first morning in the little shack all tucked away between rolling hills was the most beautiful. Cecil was not a morning person, but Earl tugged him out of bed specifically so they could climb onto the peeling shingles of the ramshackle rooftop and watch the first golden beams of light warm the frostbitten morning. There was a blissful freedom in being so far from the world they had always known. They spent their days grass staining their knees as they tumbled down hills until they collapsed into a mess at the bottom. That was where Earl would lean over and impulsively kiss Cecil between the blossoms of violent blue before they would climb back up the grassy knolls. At night they would lie on the roof and count the stars, grateful that the void was unable to find them here. And Cecil would give up counting after a while and start counting Earl's freckles instead, marking all his favorites with a kiss. He was always especially fond of a little dense patch just along Earl's ribcage.

"If you were a dot-to-dot," Cecil whispered as he traced the lines with a fingertip, "this would be an elephant," he finished with a giggle, going back to lying with his head comfortably tucked against his boyfriend's chest.

"It would not," Earl laughed as he brushed his fingers lazily through the other man's hair - though secretly he was always fond of how Cecil saw patterns and meaning even in the messy mundane bits of life. In freckles, in stars, even in the sound of rain. It rained in the next place they explored. The stone arches were beautiful to look at, but even more beautiful to listen to. The arches went on for miles, echoing back every sound they had ever heard as a whisper. Sometimes obscenities or nonsense shouted by immature visitors would echo back clearly, but other times beautiful secrets entrusted to the arches would whisper across the years from travelers who had passed long before.

It rained in the arches, the rhythmic patter of the raindrops echoing its way through the still air. The sound of the sky conversing with itself as the rain fell amidst the echoes was lilting and hypnotic. That night, in the makeshift shelter of their tent, they shared their own secrets with the arches. The next morning as they walked hand-in-hand along a crumbling path, Earl blushed slightly at a breathy half-formed echo of his name that still reverberated faintly from the night before. Cecil just laughed.

Several days and a train ride later found the two nearly out of what little money they had been able to spare for the trip. There was a sad sort of knowledge that the real world was looming ever closer, but they tried to push the idea away as they checked in for one last night at a quaint little hotel across the border. The pub where they stopped for their last supper abroad was loud and alive with light and laughter and foreign words they didn't understand. Cecil loved spending time with people individually, but he struggled in large crowds. Pieces of his past had left him with strange markings that frequently drew prying eyes and gawking stares. Earl knew. Even if Cecil had still never told him _what_ exactly had happened that one summer when they were younger, they had been best friends all his life. He had watched the changes happen slowly, one-by-one, and he knew how to pull his boyfriend from the shaky private corners of his mind where he sometimes retreated. So when Cecil whispered that people were staring, Earl quickly took his hand and led him outside where the air was cold enough to show their breath, but the scrutiny of strangers dared not follow. They sat together on a small bench beneath a lonely street lamp, and neither spoke a word until the bus arrived to begin their journey home. Earl swung his pack up on his shoulder and stopped with one foot on the step to offer a hand back to Cecil.

"You coming or what?"

"Yeah, I just...Do you ever wish you could freeze a moment forever?" Cecil asked as he slipped his own pack over a shoulder and reached towards Earl's outstretched hand.

Earl glanced around at the darkening cobblestone street slightly dusted with snow. "Why would you want to freeze _this_ moment?"

"Because I think you're beautiful," Cecil said quietly as he slipped his fingers where they fit naturally like a puzzle into his boyfriend's. Earl just smiled as he pulled Cecil up and into the first step towards home.

Night Vale's city limits had hardly disappeared in the rear view mirror when a Secret Police blockade stopped them and motioned for Cecil to step out of the car. Obediently, he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Wait for me at home," he instructed with a quick kiss before exiting the car.

Earl didn't worry. It wasn't the first time the police had taken one of them. They hadn't been the most well-behaved teenagers growing up. Cecil was such a smooth talker that he always somehow found a way to get them out of trouble. Earl didn't worry until midnight came and the apartment was still quiet. By the time morning arrived and Cecil still hadn't come home, worry gave way to a slight panic. Two days later and Earl went looking for Cecil. The search was in the beginning stages of planning in his mind as he stepped out the door and very unexpectedly and quite literally ran into his now-legal-fiancee in the street. Cecil looked none the worse for wear - just as composed and slightly off-beat as ever. Without a thought Earl threw his arms around the man's neck exhaling his gratitude to every deity he could recall at such short notice. Something was wrong. Where there should have been familiar arms, there was a stiffening of tense muscles. Where there should have been reassurances that everything would be okay now there was a strange silence.

"I was worried about you," Earl said as he leaned away enough to look into those strangely beautiful eyes he had gotten lost in ever since he was fourteen.

Cecil took a cautious step back. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to come off abrupt, but do I know you?"

Earl froze, his words requiring deliberate effort to squeeze past his throat. "Cecil, if this is a joke, it isn't funny."

Cecil shook his head. "No, it isn't funny at all," he agreed. "It's incredibly frustrating in fact. I feel horrible and scattered. I'm sorry. I just got back from an extended trip, you see," he explained cordially, careful to keep the distance between them. "I've been in Europe actually. I just got home. I haven't been home in...years it must be now. Everything's a bit overwhelming and I'm still a bit out of sorts from it all. I guess it's the time change," he finished with a nervous laugh.

"Y-yeah, the time change," Earl stumbled as soon as his mouth could form words again. This was all very wrong.

"I'm sure it'll be better in a few days, alright? I just need to go home and sleep for a long time." Cecil smiled, but it seemed forced and empty. He took measured steps towards the sidewalk.

"Where are you going?" Earl's voice was a hoarse rasp.

"Home," Cecil repeated uncertainly. "I live a few blocks from here."

"You live by-by yourself?" Earl managed weakly. Cecil looked suddenly very suspicious.

"I'll be seeing you," he said quickly before walking very deliberately the opposite direction.

_Re-education._ That was the word Earl heard tossed around by the few secret police officers who sympathetically watched him watch Cecil. Apparently it was standard police procedure due to Cecil suggesting to conceal their engagement from authorities - compliant behavior has to be learned _somehow_ after all. Not a permanent erasure of memories. More an alteration. _Like a pulled muscle_, the police assured. _In a few days the surrounding memories will re-adjust to the new tone. Don't worry, and don't force it. Let him remember you on his own._

It was harder done than said. By the end of the next week he couldn't stand by idly any longer. He arrived at the station where Cecil was interning as the show ended. Cecil didn't back away when he saw Earl waiting on the sidewalk outside, which he took as a good sign. They exchanged simple pleasantries - comments on the weather before the urgency was too much to keep inside.

"Do you know who I am?" Earl asked cautiously. His voice shook, as well it should since the familiar flicker in Cecil's eyes had seemingly vanished altogether.

"Of course I know who you are, Earl," Cecil smiled. Earl felt his heart do a flip. Or possibly it was his stomach. Internal organs were the least of his concerns. He almost dared to hope before Cecil continued. "We were in scouts together when we were kids. How have you been lately?" Earl's mouth hung limply for a moment before he bit his lower lip to keep the rush of hurtful questions inside. "I'm sorry I'm the worst at keeping up with people," Cecil continued apologetically. "I've always been bad at that."

"You don't remember the time we spent outside the scouts?" Earl asked with a failed attempt at a casual laugh.

"I'm sorry, things are still a little blurry. I got injured on my trip. Rolled down a hill and hit my head pretty bad. Whole bits after that are just black, a lot of things before are fuzzy. But what's a journey of self-discovery without a few minor cranial traumas, right?"

"So you don't remember the night before we - _you_ left for Europe then?" It was the question he needed to hear the answer to as much as he didn't want to.

"No, sorry. Was it something important?" Earl's head dropped and he squinted his eyes closed tight to avoid letting any of the hot tears he could feel forming slip out. Cecil rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. They say it should all come back sooner or later. I'll try to remember, alright?" Earl couldn't breathe enough air in to even respond as he watched Cecil drive away and leave him in the darkened parking lot. He avoided Cecil entirely for a long while afterwards. Their only contact was the occasional handful of snapdragons he would leave on his doorstep because he knew how much Cecil liked the colors - always said they reminded him of fire. Days turned into weeks turned into months until one night brought an unexpected bit of hope.

The knocking in the middle of the night woke Earl from an uneasy sleep. He opened the door to Cecil, disheveled and still wearing rumpled work clothes. "Is something wrong?" Earl asked quietly as he stepped out into the hall.

"It's my memory. It's you," Cecil said very quickly. "There are traces of you where they don't belong. They're woven in where it makes no sense for you to be." Earl didn't know what to say, so he said nothing at all for fear that hope would be crushed again if he dared to even think of it. "My mind, it's like there are gaps," Cecil continued, squinting his eyes shut tight. "There are fragments I can't remember, and others I can't place." When his eyes finally fluttered open again they were panicked. He took a step closer to the doorway and studied Earl's face carefully. "You're familiar and I wish I knew why. I know we were friends when we were younger, but it's something else..." Tentatively he reached out a hand and traced it across the freckles that he used to count into constellations. "We could have had something, you and me, and I could have lost all recollection of it." Remembering himself, he pulled away his hand too soon. "It's absolutely terrifying to not know parts of my own past. It's all fractured, like a broken mirror that I'm slowly piecing back together." Cecil did something then that Earl hadn't seen him do since they were children - he cried. Just a single tear that slipped its way down his cheek quickly. Earl wanted to reach out and brush it away, pull Cecil into his arms and hold him until everything was okay again, but their relationship was so tenuous that all he could do was offer a quiet whisper.

"I can help if you like." Hope was so tantalizing, so close. But Cecil shook his head with a sad smile and wiped away the tear with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I need to do this myself. I need to know what's real and I need to be absolutely certain none of it comes from suggestion. My imagination suggests enough to make it difficult as it is." He stepped down the hall before turning back one last time. "Elephants," he said with a puzzled expression. "It's a strange thing to associate with someone, but somehow they remind me of you. I'll figure this out," he promised quietly before turning to leave Earl alone once again - though this time, he was desperately clinging to a newfound glimmer of hope.

Hope faded over the long years that followed, but every time it came close to flickering out entirely there would be an unexpected word tucked carefully into the personals portion of the evening broadcast ('_blue_') or a whispered recollection late at night that would leave Earl clinging to the phone long after the call ended ('_it was raining_'). The few scattered memories kept him holding on even after Cecil began to talk about someone new who had captured his interest and seemed to keep it. Earl knew it was futile to cling so desperately to a daydream, but something inside him didn't want to believe that years of memories could be forgotten. He didn't want to believe that the life they had never gotten to share could just vanish.

Hope didn't abandon him until the night Cecil began to share his memories of Europe over the radio. Earl listened to the voice he loved so dearly paint beautiful pictures with brushstrokes that re-imagined the stories into a new brand of fantasy. There were bits of reality - the rolling down green hills, the sound of warm breaths echoing through the arches, the staring faces and the single moment at the bus stop that Cecil still insisted had been beautiful. The memories were twisted nearly beyond recognition however; it was this realization that finally stole the last bits of hope away from Earl. The only comfort was that in its place, the resignation brought about a sense of boldness he hadn't felt before.

Cecil did not tell the full truth on the radio the day of the eternal scout ceremony. He recited Earl's last words because last words were sacred and deserved to be kept. But he did not tell the listeners that the words were once his own, now repeated tenderly and softly as a confirmation and sealed with a kiss. He didn't tell them that in response his lips had moved out of practiced instinct without any conscious thought. He didn't mention that the smell of dirt and the taste of campfire smoke stained the world sepia for the briefest moment - that suddenly he realized there had been traces of them all along, in every memory. He didn't talk about how this realization was the missing piece that finally shifted the fractured shards into place, filling the gaps and clearing the residual haze. Cecil did not tell the radio that for the first time in a very long time, he didn't have to struggle to remember. In fact, for the first time in a very long time, he wanted to forget.

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_I felt like sharing this here because there needs to be more Cecearl fics on the internet. Feedback and critique is as always appreciated. _


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